Air
by half-star
Summary: Jet's lost and really doesn't want to get back. [hints of 42, Jetcentric]


I really don't know how long I'm going to keep using her computer…so don't mind me. I don't own Cyborg 009. Yes, that does mean that I have spork protection.

BTW, I'm posting this on **half-star **because I wrote it. Footnotes explain things a bit more.

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Air

Simple as the title

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As far up as he went, he couldn't shake anything. They followed him everywhere, pulling him down further, and yet allowing him this great distance. They stabbed into him like a thousand little needles, and somehow shielded him from everything else. They were like a bullet to the brain – pain relief and the worst of pain at the exact same instant. Going up higher and higher he couldn't loose anything, just got more and more tangled as he flew along, getting lost in two ways.

Yes, Jet Link was in a state of utter confusion.

Basically, it had all started nearly a week ago. He'd said the wrong thing to Albert, who had forgiven him after enough pestering, but was still really cold toward him. While trying to untangle that mess, Joe had come down with something and given it to nearly everyone. Jet had left that morning, trying to get away from it all. And yet as he flew further and further away, it only seemed to bring him further into his thoughts. Going deeper into them also meant going more and more back in time. The further he went there, the worse he felt.

Time was catching up. He learned that not everything had been the best way to go. Some of the things he'd done – most of them, in fact – were terrible. He was mad at himself for doing them, and mad at the person who'd show up and allow himself or herself to be the victim. If he could have, he would have gone back in time and done it all over again, just so he could have his peace of mind. Then he'd think why he wanted to do this. It was stupid! Nothing would leave him, yet nothing would come to him either. His mind was in a state of perpetual turmoil.

It hit Jet in an instant, like a lightning bolt of inspiration. Abruptly, he changed direction and began to fly at a more downward angle. The answers suddenly became flying at him and battering him before he could control it. He began to slow it down and it became slightly less overpowering. Everything else began to fall into place. The wind blew his way and there was less drag. He was taking himself forward toward the place he needed to be. Screw memories of stealing wallets ages ago. Forget inane thoughts of deaths of people who had become faceless as time had gone by.

Focus on one thing at a time. Address the matter at hand. Don't attack head on; head for the weak spot. It was just like fighting.

Thinking about how he'd lost to 0010 wasn't about to help resolve his problems he was facing at the moment. Pondering that fall through the atmosphere wouldn't somehow give him supreme knowledge of fighting viruses. Okay, sure, he wasn't the superman he imagined himself to be. He was a cyborg, a cyborg who was hurt by himself. But sure, he could take that. He'd be stuck like this forever, but he could still grow out of his fantasies and learn from past mistakes.

"Jet, are you going to stay up there all day?" Albert asked, still far below. Giving Jet the classic 'I-don't-care-so-do-whatever' shrug, he walked back inside. Jet took one last breath of the pure air outside, then landed on the deck.

"There you are." Albert said, turning. "Anything you discover on your trip?"

"I'm sorry about all that. I really am." Jet replied, looking the other man straight in the eyes. Albert smiled.

"Good, then, you'll be ready. The professor wants to check if you have this disease that seems to have hit all of us." Albert said, smirking. Jet jumped up onto the rail as if to run back away. Mid jump, he sneezed and fell back onto the deck. Albert chuckled and hoisted him up by the shirt.

"I'd say he hit it right on with you." Albert said as Jet grudgingly entered the house. "Too stubborn to even figure out that he was sick. Or just too wrapped up in something else."

As much as Jet now wanted to kick Albert, he grinned in spite of himself. Air was the best thing to have when you were alone. It was something best served to only one person, not to multiple people to work out.

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Based on my own true story. Yay, so do something, like favorite this or leave a review. Cheese, if we get enough, I'll continue this behind Mika's back. Yay!


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